


To Break, to Bend

by mskullgirl



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Azula/Therapy - Freeform, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, M/M, Modern Era, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25871659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskullgirl/pseuds/mskullgirl
Summary: Three years ago Zuko left his old life in Caldera behind and never looked back. Now his father is on trial and his sister is left without a home. Can a new fencing student help him confront his past and finally get the closure he needs?
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 120





	1. Prologue

**出る釘は打たれる** ( _ Deru kugi wa utareru) _ : The nail that sticks out gets hammered down

-Japanese Proverb

Azula had never been easily scared. While ghost stories and thunder storms had always sent Zuko running to their mother for comfort Azula had relished the excitement. The only person that had ever come close to truly scaring her as a child was her father. Even then, it had been a distant sort of fear. Father had never hurt her, rarely even raised his voice at her and why would he? She was the perfect daughter, the apple of his eye. Zuko, on the other hand, was something else entirely. It seemed like father was always mad at Zuko but then again he was always doing something to provoke him. He was always getting a bad grade or messing up a kata or sucking his thumb or crying like a little baby. 

“Why don’t you just work harder?” Azula had asked once as Zuko sat in his bedroom sniffling pathetically. Father had yelled at him after he brought home a B on his math test and sent him to his room without supper. This was not an uncommon occurrence but as this was a big test father had been especially angry. 

“It’s not fair!” Zuko had snapped, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s always so easy for you, you don’t even have to try.” Azula didn’t have an answer to that; he was right after all. She didn’t try to hug him or anything stupid like that but she sat next to him and let him cry. She knew that sooner or later mother would walk in with a plate of food that she had snuck past father and everything would be alright again. 

Then mother left and everything fell apart. As the years passed Azula watched as her father grew angrier and angrier, more often than not taking his anger out on Zuko. The smallest offense, not looking father in the eye when he was speaking for example, was met with harsh punishment. Azula didn’t sit with her brother when he cried anymore. Instead she threw herself into her school work and extracurriculars. This served two purposes. First of all, her father praised her for her efforts and seeing the pride in his eyes when she brought home a perfect score on a test or a first place trophy was the closest thing she ever felt to happiness. Second, the less time she spent at home the lower the risk that her father would eventually grow tired of hurting Zuko and turn his attention on her. 

It all came to a head one summer night when Azula was trying to sleep. It was proving impossible; she could hear her father shouting from all the way downstairs. She wasn’t sure what he was mad about this time or if he had a reason at all. Just as she resolved to bury her face in her pillow and wait for it to end she heard her brother yelling back. Azula frowned and sat up in bed. Zuko never fought back, that was one of the things that most annoyed her about her brother. Once, when they were much younger she had pushed him out of a tree after he had playfully tugged on her pigtail. He had ended up with a fractured tibia and had to wear a cast for weeks. Despite this, he never so much as yelled at her for the incident.

“It’s okay ‘Zula.” He’d said on the way to the emergency room. “I know you didn’t mean it.” If he hadn’t fought then she couldn’t imagine why he would now. 

On silent feet she crept downstairs and moved towards the sounds of the raised voices. As she reached the kitchen door she heard her brother’s defiant shouts turn to screams of pain. It sounded like nothing she has ever heard before, it barely even sounded human. Father had hurt her brother before, sometimes so badly that he had to stay home from school for days while the bruises faded but Azula had never heard him sound like this. Heart pounding, she cautiously peeked through the opening in the door. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her; her brother bent over the stove top and her father standing behind him holding his face to the glowing red burner. The room was filled with the sickening smell of burning flesh and Zuko was screaming, his hands uselessly clawing at her father’s arms. For a moment Zuko caught her eye, tears running down his face.

_ Help me! _ His eyes seemed to say.  _ He’s going to kill me, help me! _ Frozen in place Azula could only watch in horror as her brother burned. A moment later she watched Zuko’s eyes roll back in his head and his body go limp. Only then did her father release him, letting him fall to the floor like a sack of rice. The noise of Zuko’s body hitting the ground was what finally snapped her out of her trance. Quiet as a mouse, she raced upstairs, snatched the phone out of her father’s study and ran into her closet to hide. Her hands trembled as she dialed one of the few numbers she knew by heart, biting her nails as she listened to the ring. She sighed in relief when the phone was picked up on the third ring. 

“Ozai?” A familiar gruff voice asked and Azula could cry with relief.

“Uncle it’s me.” She said in a hoarse whisper, her eyes on the door. “Please come. Zuko’s hurt.”

* * *

Uncle arrived minutes after she hung up the phone, barely taking the time to park his car before he ran inside. Azula heard him shouting at father and father shouting back but she didn’t dare go downstairs again. A few minutes later, crouched in front of her bedroom window she watched her uncle carry Zuko out to his car. 

_ Take me with you. _ She had silently begged, her face pressed up against the glass.  _ Don’t leave me here with him. Don’t leave me like mother. _ She could only watch in despair as her uncle’s tail lights faded into the distance. 


	2. A House Divided

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I received a call this afternoon from one of your father’s lawyers.” Iroh said evenly. “Apparently he’s been arrested.” Zuko’s heart stopped in his chest.

**家和万事兴** ( _Jiā hé wànshì xīnɡ_ ): A house divided against itself cannot stand. 

-Chinese proverb

The second Zuko stepped into the apartment he knew something was wrong. Normally when he got home from school Iroh could be heard puttering around in the kitchen, making tea and humming to himself . Today the apartment was worryingly silent. He eventually found Iroh in the living room, an untouched cup of tea in front of him. 

“What’s wrong?” Zuko asked, sinking to the nearby arm chair and letting his backpack fall to the floor. His uncle looked up at him, his face drawn with worry. 

“I received a call this afternoon from one of your father’s lawyers.” Iroh said evenly. “Apparently he’s been arrested.” Zuko’s heart stopped in his chest. When he had first woken up in the hospital Iroh had softly informed him that he could press charges against Ozai for what he had done. There was more than enough evidence to make a case for child abuse, assault, and even attempted murder. Zuko had refused; he knew he couldn’t win against Ozai’s army of lawyers and the thought of testifying made him sick to his stomach. All he wanted, he told Iroh, was to leave and never come back. His uncle had agreed and neither of them had ever mentioned it again. And now, three years later it seemed the law had finally caught up with Ozai. 

“Did he…” Zuko swallowed, his throat impossibly dry. “Did he do something to Azula?” Iroh shook his head.

“Nothing like that. It seems my brother made a number of legally questionable business decisions over the years and the courts finally gathered enough evidence to prosecute.” 

_Of course._ Zuko thought bitterly. _A man almost murders his own son and no one bats an eye. But god forbid that same man gets involved in insider trading or tax evasion._

“Although there is the question of your sister.” Iroh continued, looking somehow more concerned than before. Zuko stiffened in his seat.

“What about her?” He had spent years being angry at Azula, for being so perfect, for all the times she had teased him, for not doing anything to defend him against Ozai. The image of her face in the kitchen doorway watching as he suffered and doing nothing haunted his nightmares for months after he left the hospital. But slowly, over the course of many sessions with his therapist, he had learned to let go of that anger. Azula had only been eleven when he left, still just a child. It was unfair of him to expect her to stand up to their father. If anything, he should have been the one protecting her, he was the older brother after all. And in the end he had left her there, left her alone in that house with Ozai. 

“Your father was deemed unfit to look after her while he is awaiting trial.” Iroh continued. “As she has just turned fourteen, she is too young to be left on her own. We are the only other family she has, nephew.” Understanding dawned on Zuko.

“They want her to come here? To live with you?” Iroh nodded. “Did you say yes?”

“I said I would need to discuss this with you.” Zuko looked up sharply in surprise. 

“Me?”

“This is your home too.” Iroh said, gesturing around them, at the somewhat cluttered and homey apartment that they had slowly made their own. “You have just as much say in who is allowed to live here as I do.” To his horror, Zuko felt tears welling up in his eyes. He knew that if Iroh decided to assume guardianship over Azula there would be nothing he could do. He was only 16, in the eyes of the law he was still a child and therefore had no say in the matter. Yet here Iroh was giving him a choice. Zuko and his uncle had never really discussed everything that had gone on in Ozai’s house. Iroh knew about Azula’s teasing, knew that she was adored and encouraged where Zuko was ignored and looked down on. He knew that Azula had a mean streak, one that only grew as she got older. 

“If you do not want her living here with you we will figure something else out.” Iroh said softly, placing his hand over Zuko’s. “I am in your corner, nephew, no matter what you decide.” Zuko made himself consider the reality of the situation. He was only just starting to feel safe again, to feel like he had made a life for himself that Ozai couldn’t touch. And now a part of his old life was threatening to disturb his newfound sense of security. But this was Azula, Azula who had stumbled over his name as a toddler, who used to cling to him and beg for piggy backs, Azula who he had left with a mad man for three years. 

“She’s my little sister.” Zuko said at last. “And she needs help.”


	3. A Smiling Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula spent the majority of the flight to Ba Sing Se scowling out the window ("Don't frown like that Azula, you'll get wrinkles"), refreshing her email and contemplating her escape.

###  **웃는 얼굴에 침 뱉으랴** ( _unneun eolgure chim baeteurya_ ): How can you spit on a smiling face?

-Korean proverb

Azula spent the majority of the flight to Ba Sing Se scowling out the window ("Don't frown like that Azula, you'll get wrinkles"), refreshing her email and contemplating her escape. To say she was unhappy with her current situation was an understatement. She knew that father had been involved in some less than savory business practices but she never expected him to take the fall for any of them. He was Ozai Sozin; he was practically untouchable. Although, apparently not as untouchable as Azula had once believed. 

Iroh was waiting for her at baggage claim because of course he was. Even though Azula hadn’t seen him in years he was easy to pick out of a crowd. His face broke into a smile when he saw her although he didn’t try to do anything as idiotic as hug her, thank the spirits.

“You’ve grown so much, niece.” He said once they were standing right in front of each other, looking her up and down. “You’re nearly as tall as I am.” _Hardly an impressive feat._ Azula thought to herself. Iroh stood at maybe five foot five if she was being generous and Azula wore heels more often than not.

“And you’ve gotten fatter.” She replied. While true, Azula realized this was perhaps not the best thing to say to the man who would be housing her for the foreseeable future. Luckily, Iroh did not seem offended and actually laughed at the comment. 

“You are not wrong.” He said, eyes still twinkling with mirth. “One of the downsides to running a tea shop I’m afraid; it is difficult to walk by the pastry display case without sampling something.” Azula snorted. Father would never have had such a problem. Then again, father would never have given up a high paying company position to work at a tea shop of all places. 

Thinking about father, even in such an adjacent way, was painful. Azula hated the thought of him sitting in some dank little prison cell, probably wearing one of those garish orange jumpsuits. He would detest that most of all; in her fourteen years on earth Azula had hardly ever seen her father in anything other than an expensive three piece suit. She wondered, vaguely if he missed her before banishing the thought. Sentiment. 

“Remind me,” Iroh said as they loaded her luggage into the back of his beat-up looking sedan. “Was I ever able to convince you to learn pai sho?” Clearly her disdainful expression spoke for itself. Iroh laughed again as he slammed the trunk closed. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised. Your brother never had much patience for it either.” Azula’s shoulders tensed at the mention of her brother. In the three years since he left she had not received a single phone call, email, or text from Zuko. Granted, she had never reached out to him either but it still stung. Once, in a moment of weakness she had tried looking him up on facebook just to see if he was still alive. Unfortunately, she had come up empty handed. It shouldn’t have surprised her, Zuko had never been one for social media (“It’s not like you have friends to follow anyways.” She had once told him.) 

“I am nothing like Zuko.” Azula snapped, gingerly taking a seat on the passenger side. 

“In that case perhaps I can teach you now.” Azula scowled, annoyed at herself for falling for such an obvious set up. For all his apparent foolishness, her uncle was still a Sozin and in his day he had been a ruthless and calculating businessman. She would do well to remember that. 

Iroh continued to talk as they pulled out of the airport and onto the highway. Most of it was inconsequential; stories about the people he saw at work, places to go near the apartment, what they should make for dinner that night. Azula tuned him out as much as possible, gazing out the window and drumming her fingers against her thigh. This was temporary, she reminded herself. Sooner or later father’s lawyers would get his charges dropped. Once he was free again he would surely send for her and she would return home. After a while, her time in Ba Sing Se would be nothing but an unpleasant memory. She scowled at the scenery flying past her window. This time, she would be the one who left. 


End file.
